


close your eyes

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dark, M/M, children die, dark!stiles, possessed!stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 13:58:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1229005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Scott,” the thing puts Stiles’ hand on his shoulder, squeezing hard enough to make him wince. “Focus.”</p><p>Scott doesn’t want to focus. He wants to be as unfocused as possible, wants to find a way to carry himself away from this place, a way to wake with the realization that this was all just a nightmare. He wants to bolt upright in his bed with his breath catching in his throat, remembering the way the thing that should be his friend but isn’t had proposed a deal, all while knowing that the memory was false.</p>
            </blockquote>





	close your eyes

**Author's Note:**

> i got bored on my lunch break again
> 
> i should note that their relationship isn't super in your face obvious but that's only because that wouldn't fit

The scent of blood is thick in the air, clogging Scott’s senses. He wishes that he could just wave his hand and make the smell disappear, but that wouldn't give him any clue as to what he was supposed to do with the bodies laid out across the bed, bleeding out onto what had once been clean, white sheets.

Beside him, the thing that is his best friend but also not because Stiles would never do this, never slit the throats of children with a perfectly serene smile on his face, dipping his fingers into pools of blood so he could suck them into his mouth with an exaggerated moan at the taste…

“Scott,” the thing puts Stiles’ hand on his shoulder, squeezing hard enough to make him wince. “Focus.”

Scott doesn’t want to focus. He wants to be as unfocused as possible, wants to find a way to carry himself away from this place, a way to wake with the realization that this was all just a nightmare. He wants to bolt upright in his bed with his breath catching in his throat, remembering the way the thing that should be his friend but isn’t had proposed a deal, all while knowing that the memory was false.

“Scott,” the thing says again, it’s voice dropping into a growl.

Scott is silent, breathing in the harsh scent of new death that always makes him want to double over and cry. After a few moments, he speaks, voice barely more than a whisper.

“You didn’t have to kill them.”

He looks at the children and finds his mind running, wondering what their names are...were. What their names were, because they don’t exist in this present anymore. Whatever life there was Stiles -no, the nogitsune- had stolen with one practiced cut from a knife. 

Next to him, the thing nods. “You’re right,” it agrees. “I didn’t have to kill them. But, you refused to help me, Scott, and I can’t let that go unpunished,” the thing finishes, sounding almost legitimately upset about the whole ordeal (as if it hadn’t looked like a child on Christmas morning when Scott had refused to suck the pain from the children while the nogitsune slowly made them bleed and it had grabbed the first girl by the hair, holding her close, whispering comforts while she cried before it twisted her neck in one quick motion). 

Even without facing the creature, Scott can see the slight twitch of Stiles’ lips. Years of friendship have taught him how to read every expression that Stiles has and he knows that the nogitsune is laughing at him. 

“I should kill you for doing this,” Scott snarls, nails lengthening into claws before he whirls on the nogitsune.

The creature takes a few quick steps back, avoiding the first blow Scott had aimed, but it’s not a creature anymore because it’s Stiles, looking at him with wide, frightened eyes as he raises his hands (the sleeves of his shirt are wet with blood and they leave red tracks on his pale skin, but Scott can’t focus on that).

“Scott, no. Please. Please, I don’t wanna die, buddy. I don’t-” Stiles’ voice suddenly cuts off and the look of absolute panic is replaced by a cruel, mocking laugh. “Whoops. How did that get out?”

He wants to kill it. He wants to drive his claws into the thing’s throat and watch that self satisfied expression fall from its face, but the nogitsune’s throat is also Stiles’ throat, and the idea of bringing any harm to his friend is one that Scott has always recoiled from.

His claws shrink back to humans nails and the thing grins, but the expression is colder than one that he has ever seen on Stiles’ face before.

“Are you going to play nice now?” it asks, stepping in so close that Scott wouldn’t even have to reach out to touch it now.

“I should kill you,” Scott repeats, but the anger is gone from his voice, replaced with a bitter resignation. 

“Don’t forget,” the creature says, looking at Scott closely for a few seconds before it closes the distance between them and presses it’s -no, Stiles’- lips against Scott’s own. He expects the kiss to be hard, bruising, nothing at all like the Stiles he knows, but it’s everything he remembers and he can’t help the whimper that escapes when the creature pulls back and brings up a trembling hand that Scott unconsciously nuzzles into. “I’m still here, Scott. I’m still here.”


End file.
